Dreaming in Digital
by Virusea
Summary: When lost in the digital world......follow the pink dragon.....


Dreaming in Digital

1:00 A.M morning

A gargantuan, white-brick mansion perched upon an enormous hill, and surrounded on all sides by 13-foot steel gates, is ensnared by booming techno music; the entire thirty mile area reverberates with its earsplitting beat, nearly forcing the caterpillar-green carpet like lawns to dance up and down with it.

Inside the elegant ball room of the mansion is where the music originates from this room, clutters of closely dancing teens smoke and bob with the bright flashes of lights, and hypnotic incoherent music. The lights temporarily bring spouts of color to the dimly lit room, and the loud music make speech unnecessary if not impossible.

However, on top of the mansion's flat four-story roof sat a sixteen-year-old girl in fluffy pink PJs that look like the pink panther's fur if it were electrocuted. Her legs are folded neatly with her arms resting on either leg. Hot-pink were the color of her contacts, yet her dull expression and the lowness of her eyelids made them appear not at all vivid. The glazed eyes gaze downward into the distant clamor of lights from the city below and further. Her short, plump, curly, light chestnut-brown, and blond locks play in the chilly night breeze around her gentle jaw line. She shivers at this and clutches her bare arms, almost instantaneously her also fluffy, also light-pink, pursue began to vibrate against her thigh.

With out removing her impassive gaze, she sticks one hand in her pursue and pulls out her blinged-out pink cell phone and raises it instantly to the side of her head.

Her thumb clicks the talk button. "What?.." she mutters. But there was no response at the other end of the line, she waits for a minute, then a frown passes over her forehead. If she couldn't even get reception here on the roof there would be hell to pay, she then brings her cell away from her ear and peers down at the screen. It read:

"Y did U create such a vast gathering if you had no interest in being apart of the celebration?"

In a split second her baby-pink polished fingers had typed replies': "Who's this?"

Page felt bitterness swell in the pit of her stomach, the thoughts that brought her to the roof were remembered. "All my "friends" are at the party down stairs they don't even notice that I'm not down there, and if they do, then they just don't care." she thought to herself, but she would never text such pathetic things.

The mysterious texter answers her inquiry with, "I'm your best friend! Don't you remember, Sir Page?!" Some how the words seem to be friendly, yet Page was fluttered.

Shock cast over her like a menacing dark-gray cloud, making her brow frown deeper but not in anger and her heart pumps quicker. "Who the heck is this?! How do you know that name?!" she text.

Bewildering thoughts storm Page's mind. "I don't even have that name on my birth certificate, my mother was the only one that called me, Page… could this be my mother's ghost?! Or some kind of really good stalker?! Why would my mother call me "Sir"? It must be a stalker!!" She opens her mouth so she could better grasp hold of some deep breaths, and slow her race of thoughts.

The texts continue, "Your name is beautiful, Sir Page, you should go by the name Page from now on."

Now Page grew a little angry, she didn't like being told what to do, or even receiving a suggestion, and she wanted answers to put an end to her anxieties. "Who are you?!" texts Page franticly, her labored breaths become visible in the cold air as her frantic pink eyes dig into the cell phone screen.

"Don't you remember? I told you I was your best friend."

At that instant the huge gray satellite dish sitting 15 feet away from her rears its head in her direction, till it points directly on her. Page did not have time to notice, because her cell phone began to vibrate uncontrollably hard and glow a blinding neon-pink. While inside the mansion all the other electronics were also tweaking out and flashing on and off. But the only difference it made within the ballroom was an increase in rate of light flashes, and the music continually skipped until a scratchy new familiar beat was pounded out, louder, and stronger then any of the methodical beats before it.

The vibrations from her cell phone were rattling so hard it blurred and burnt her fingers and the strong neon-pink light stung her eyes still she finally let the cell phone drop. But that did not help, for as soon as it hit its neon light envelops the entire roof and made it vibrate like angry wasp wings. Her bones were shivering uncontrollably inside her flesh making it extremely hard to keep balance, even on the gentle slope of the roof. All traction appeared to be lost with the massive trembling black shingles, it was like a mighty chord was plucked and the ripples were sharp and intense, and the roof was now drenched in a glow of light. The beam of neon pink light reflects in Page's terrified eyes as all breath collect in her lungs, it clogs all screams in her throat. Breathless she attempts to turn herself around in order to run back through the open window she had come from, but the intense vibrations make her slip and fall flat on her back, the trembling promptly swirls her around and sent her down the side of the roof head first, all her entrails being shaken within her. She is finally able to let out a scream as the view of the upside-down ledge rapidly approaches her, but nothing could be heard above the tremors of the roof, and the consuming rock beat. The roof throws her head over the edge, then shoulders, back and elbows, but her pink nailed fingers some how manage to grasp the roof's ledge, with the trembling going thickly through her veins and the very marrow of her bones. Her resistance seems to trigger more violent tremors and her butt and legs slip between her twitching and trembling arms and slips over the ledge, till she was left hanging by her rumbling fingers. Page could see the depth of the darkness pulling her below, she didn't want to let go of the light, but the roof did not want her, so she winces and forces her every fiber into her clinging numb fingers. She refuses to look down again and keeps her chin up, vaguely, so vaguely she thought she heard someone running down the slope of the roof to aid her.

"SOMEONE! HELP!! PLEASE! PLE-" before Page could finish her desperate plea, her buzzing glowing cell slides rapidly down the roof and hit her square in the face, and with a scream she and the cell fell down the four story roof.

...buzzzz...

Page realizes that all she hears and sees is the darkness, she wants to open her eyes and leave the darkness, but she couldn't remember how.

_I am dead now._ That is what she thought until something cold and sleek is placed against the back of her hand. It brought such a chill that it made her mind rerecognize her entire body. The thing felt like nothing she had encountered before, it had the texture of marble, but more like gold so pure it was still soft.

"Sir Page, Sir Page, are you damaged?" asks a tender concerned voice.

Page couldn't help but think one word. "Mother?" and without realizing she accidentally spoke the word aloud.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, but I don't believe I'm your mother." answers the cutesy voice.

Embarrassment floods Page's senses, she felt exposed like a child that had been denied and admonished all at once. She clenches her eyes shut as she pulls her hands over them, even though she was still seeing only black. "Well to answer your question: No I am not alright!" she shouts hard, in hopes that the anger in her voice would distract from the tears welling up behind her hands. "My head hurts..." Memories of the lit up and shaking roof suddenly hit her and her insides rattle and she grew afraid again. "Did I fall off the roof?" Now fear of seeing the outcome of that horrid nightmare-ish incident kept her eyes close. She shivers into a ball and hunches her shoulders, the tips of her fingers scan her arms for any abnormalities. She did not feel any differences, not even tenderness or swelling.

"You'll be alright, the warm desert sand broke your fall." chirps the perky voice from above her head.

Page's mind figures she must be dying for someone to be talking to her in such a sugar-coated tone, but something didn't add up. Her hot-pink eyes shot open. "What Desert?!" she demands, her neck twists around in every direction to discover she sat in a vast land of golden orange.

Now she felt heat beat down on her and her throat became salty and sore. "What is this?….." Page's dry mouth hangs open as her bewildered wide eyes stare distantly into the never ending valley of sand.

The more she thought about deserts, sand, yellow, orange, and sun the worse the heat fell over her. But before fear could evolve into panic the cold hand of logic reasons its way through her. "This is just impossible. I've never been in a desert in my life, there are no deserts anywhere near where I live." and she suddenly became cool and calm. Her head tilts to one side inquisitively, she sees nothing but sand in front of her, then her chin gradually rises till she stares directly into the perfectly round orange star without ever feeling the need to squint her pink orbs at all. A gasp chokes her lungs as she remembers her fear and respect for the sun and turns her gaze down and away from it.

"Don't worry, Pinkrea is here to protect, Sir Page." says the happy-go-lucky voice from behind Page, as it gave her a strong soothing pat to her back with those hard long things. It jolts Page's spine rigid, and her eyes widen up again. What ever was patting her on the back was absolutely not a human hand, Page slowly turns her head.

On two stubby hind legs stood a four foot, hot-pink scaled dragon, with a lighter pink coloration from her chest, under belly and stretching all the way to the tip of her long tail. The pink scaly body glimmers like it was buffed and polished, and two extra long dark violet cones pointed out from the sides of her small head, they reminded Page of the long pointy hats princesses wore. But the thing that caught Page's attention most was the dark violet, oversized, fatally sharp claws. In fact, every end of the dragon seemed laser sharp from her tail to her snout, yet it had the kindest round eyes, and the puffy cheeks even had traces of light pink blush to them.

"Alright………talking cute pink dragon talkin to me………….I guess I did fall off the roof……..damn……now I'm retarded..." babbles Page in a nervous, psychotic, trying-not-to-loose-her-cool kind of tone, as she began inhaling deep breaths and holding her head between her fingers. All the while the dragon's soft, violet, eyes remain on her, and its short muzzle appears to grin, the way a dog seems to grin.

Page felt hot again and she slides her hand over to her forehead, that's when she notices her favorite pearl bracelet around her wrist. She looks down on herself and found she was wearing her favorite outfit too. A cotton white half-shirt with a wide pearl collar and puffy round short sleeves. A tight black shirt was beneath the first in order to cover her exposed middle. Despite having a pearl collar, a long loose pearl necklace wrapped around her neck twice, and her light pink plaid skirt with black leggings that almost reach down to her white platform shoes.

"I don't remember putting this on ..." she muses out loud to herself, raising an eyebrow as she stood up and checks herself out. She finds one article of clothing she didn't recognize, it was a fuzzy black arm-warmer that clung to her entire forearm and hand with only her fingers poking out from beneath it. "hmm... this is new ... kinda tacky ... but it's nice and fuzzy." she smiles as she ran the back of her fuzz-clothed hand against her cheek, it reminds her of her beloved kitten Shadow, whom went off and joined a circus when she was five.

"No time to touch oneself, Sir, we must scamper away from here, the virus child comes this way." explains Pinkrea, her cheeriness untainted like the emotionless news reporting ladies on TV. The dragon wraps her violet claws around Page's hand. This makes Page flinch from the thought of those round sharp claws closing down on her flesh and chopping her fingers right off, yet the touch was surprisingly gentle and so smooth it almost felt soft, yet the creature held her tight and began to drag her along with enormous force, considering the creature was a little bigger then a prompt up tricycle. Now Page was reminded of her Great Dane, Buddy, who used to lick her to death and would drag her around, she didn't like him and she disliked the small dragon the same. A frown creases her forehead and she dug the heel of her white platforms into the sand but it held little resistance, mostly because of the flatness of the sole. "What the hell is the damn hurry?!" With that angry spout Page took one small glance over her shoulder and saw the warm sand of the desert whipping up and twisting around like a whirlpool. Every thought was wiped from her mind and her teeth crack together in terror as her white platforms promptly became wild torrents as she took off and drags the creature behind her like a purse in the breeze.

"This is a dream. This is a dream. You can't die in a dream!" Page repeats to herself trying to regain her logic as she runs for her life. But another strange appearance made all reason impossible; a building made entirely of florescent pink bricks, sitting alone in the middle of the raining sand. The neon sign on the roof was in the shape of a pink lamb with the word "cuisine" beneath that.

At the sight of it, her frown resurfaces and deepens as she squints over at the ridiculous place, her mind was racing faster then her feet, and almost forgets to stop before she plows right into the pink wall. Her platforms skid to a mighty stop, the palm of her hands catch the momentum against the rough brick surface.

"Now this is just dumb, how can there be a single restaurant in the middle of this desert wasteland? Wouldn't it sink in the sand? Or be barred in the sandstorms?" thought Page, her eyes roll up unamused by the incoherence of it all. Then her hot pink eyes widen, the word sandstorm recalls to her what she was running from, then the violent wind begins to whip against her skin with tiny particles of sand like sewing needles.

"OWWW!!" screams Page as she hunches down and held her head down against her drawn up knees and wraps her arms protectively over her skull, like teachers had taught her to do during an earthquake. A small paw of diamond smooth claws scoops Page up beneath her knees and arms, then Pinkrea heads into the restaurant with Page in its strong arms. A thick veil of jungle vines slaps Page almost purposely on the cheek, and her eyes snap open to see herself entering the inside of the restaurant, there was no door, just the vines. The dragon didn't waste a beat, it stealthily charges through the sterile, vacant place, its claws tinkling on the hard floors of tile and a few long florescent lights engraved into the very floors. A quick glance up at the ceiling reveals where the tables where. This play of tipsiness almost rolls Page's pink eyes up past the tables above and down into the back of her skull, as knots wring her stomach and guts, she bobs up and down in the arms of a dragon. Page seals her eyes shut and tries to force reality back, but when she finally reopens them she finds herself sitting sprawled against a silver-steel counter on the kitchen floor of a restaurant that looks like no one had ever came into it before.

The dragon's pink eyes stare down its snout at her, and it says. "Hide in one of the cupboards, Sir." with its ginger voice, making it all seem like a dream.

Page hung her head forward and slumps over on hands and knees as she drew in some hot breaths, after a long sigh, and without lifting her low head she crawls into a small cupboard near to the grey and black tile ground where she is accompanied by pots, pans and scissors.

"I'll protect Sir ...to the death." assures Pinkrea almost sternly, but the light pink apron it wraps around its middle made it seem less then believable. The half apron had white frills and was the same shade of light pink as the dragon's underbelly, the color-coordinated creature winks at Page as it slides the steel droar close, then there was the sound of Pinkrea's violet claws clicking like a raptor as it walked out of the kitchen.

There was silence for a moment, just when Page was about ready to climb out, there was a rumbling roar that came from outside, fallowed by a loud smash and the tremors like something caving in.

Page tightly closes here eyelids and grabs hold of a pointy pair of scissors in both hands. "No more vibrations! No more madness ..." she begs.

Finally the earthquake like pulsation rattles and dies away, leaving behind silence. But it was broken by a bitter-sweet voice that pierces from afar: "Master Virusea, what can I make you? Burger? Fries? Raspberry milkshake, or parfait?" inquires the dragon's way too perky voice.

"I'd like an order of human flesh, and a side of your pink-ass in a well butchered manner if you fail to provide me with that human you're concealing from me." an iron unyielding female voice snipes back.

"I'm sorry, we don't serve human flesh here, but if I run across a human, you will be the first to be notified." pipes the unshaken dragon voice.

"I don't think you comprehend who you're dealing with ..."

Something like a cannon being fired fallows. Another impact rocks the restaurant, the pots, pans, and skillets crie out, as glass shatters against the hard tile floors. A roar of something inhuman and worse then beastly, slices all the noises away and Page drops the scissors to shield her ears.

"Tell me now where that damn human is!!" erupts the brutally hard voice over the menacing roars.

The hidden girl's fists clench hard as she frowns in determination, she hated the sound of people's raised voices. "Reality or a crazed dream, I don't care, I am not hiding in a freckin floor cupboard!" huffs Page sternly, one hand grasps a closed pair of scissors as her fingers clutch the sliding droar and slams it open in time to witness a vision of such eerie beauty that her movements instantly shut down, and the dull scissors fall to the tile. It takes some time for her stunned pink gaze to travel all the way up the endless jet-black high heeled boots that climb all the way to the thighs with a tight buckle around every inch. The body is almost entirely consumed by the strange black material, and the curves of her body is so sharply defined by the tightness that it could have been an extension of the sketchbook-white skin. Her vividly contrast white skin could be seen where the black material was held together by strong black strands around her middle, and on upper back were a tattoo of bone wings sprout black wings. The ends of her jet-black were round and razor sharp as they were pulled away from her blank face by safety pins. Some longer prominent strands hung over her luscious breast. Her shoulders were pulled back and padded with sharp tipped shoulder armor. White metal stitching stapled over portions of the leather where limb met torso. She stood in such a way that it looked as if she were being pulled forward by the mid line of her body, in fact her spine curved in such an outward arch that no healthy human could function. Her long arms had the same tight buckles going up them as the legs, but the forearms were hidden within misplaced baggy sleeves that were the only thing not skin tight on the creature. Peeking out the oversized black sleeves pearly sharp nails grew from her long strong fingers.

For a second Page mistook her for a human, before she glances the ghastly white eyes, they had no pupils, just pearl white and highly reflective, with an extra third eye on her broad forehead. The face was also as empty as paper, nothing to give hints of age not even a slight variation in shade, not even in the plump lips.

The creature past mutely by Page, it walks in an exaggerated strut from the deep forward bend in the lower lumbar portion of its back. The high-heel boots stop the broad stride in front of the cupboard Page resides within. The manikin face bent down, in its eyes Page's fear-stricken face stares up at it, and it blinks with thick black lashes like a camera lens. "Don't be stupid, if you show yourself to Virusea you will be killed, just let me take care of this." The colorless lips opened and closed hardly at all, yet a horse and strong voice somehow emerges.

The sound of roars and thrashing shakes Page back into her head, and she is finally able to think again. But by then the white-washed black clad creature had strut-floated out of the kitchen and out of view.

Its strong voice could be heard as it challenges: "Virusea! Forget the human, and come and try to capture me."

"Aahh, Getoramon, you won't allude me this day." snickers Virusea smugly, as a crashing sound fallows, then the restaurant rumbles from the walls to the floor.

Page crawls out from her cupboard and grasps the ground with her hands and glides along on her knees into what was left of the café area of the restaurant, the wall that was once the front of the restaurant looks like a bomb went off inside it. A giant hole in the roof burns and smokes lime green ash down on them, and rubble is scattered over the floor in smoking clumps. Even one of the tables from the ceiling lays upside down in the rubble.

Everything was tranquil, even the raging sandstorm was gone. Page found herself alone. She got to her feet and glances around cautiously. "Hello?"

As if to answer her, a fairly large heap of rubble rocks back and forth a few times, Page gives out a scream and falls back down on bent hands and knees when out pops Pinkrea, a content grin still curled on her muzzle. "Hi, Sir!" she squeals delightfully.

"Are……you ok?.." questions Page with unblinking eyes, astonished to see the dragon still smiling and still in one piece.

Pinkrea simply dusts her narrow shoulders off, then gives Page another reassuring sharp toothy smile.

"That was nothing at all." peeps Pinkrea.

"Is everyone gone?" asks Page meekly, taking a few more quick glances around, before getting back to her feet.

"Yes, Getoramon showed up and drove the Virus Child away. Virusea is determined to be the only human in the digital world, and she sucks the power out of all powerful digimon, and gets rid of the weaker ones, and uses the power she takes from digimon to make her own personal digimon more powerful. We're lucky Getoramon showed up, or you would have be dead." chirp Pinkrea contrite and gleeful.

"Do you have to be happy while say that?" demands Page, raising an eyebrow and frowning with the other.

"Sorry, it's just in my programming." answers Pinkrea with a shrug and a bashful grin.

"Is that right?…so if this is the digital world what happens when I die?" asks Page unenthusiastically.

"I can explain more in another location, Virusea will return once she captures Getoramon." continues Pinkrea, taking hold of Page's wrist and gives her a small prod as she gazes up at her untrusting pink eyes.

"Come with me, please."

Page rolls her pink eyes at the sky. "whatever ..."

((speaking of electronics going crazy, just when I wrote the part about all technology spazing out, my computer blacked out and when the screen turned back on the screen was frozen with purple lines going down it. It messed me up. I had to turn my computer off, but I didn't lose much))


End file.
